The Bones in the House
by pomegranate-stars
Summary: What happens when you mix a forensic anthropologist, a strapping FBI agent, and a sarcastic doctor together? A whole lot of fun! BB, Slight HA, Kuteen, Huddy, slight Chameron. Story on extended Hiatus until such a time as it can be re-written.
1. And They're Off!

**So, back before I got my account, when I was anonymous, I went through this time when i really really liked crossovers. This is from that time. Hey, I like Bones, I Like House...It was simple logic, si? Hope you like it!**

Disclaimer: Don't own either. Y'all should know that by now.

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Chapter One: And they're off!

Temperance Brennan leaned over the remains spread-eagled on her examination table, completely enthralled in her work. "Hm…" She murmured. "Male, 40-45, Hispanic, I'd say."

Her best friend, Angela Montenegro pulled a pencil from behind her ear. "Do you want me to do a facial reconstruction?" She asked eagerly. Things had been slow lately. Brennan's partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth hadn't had a case for them in a while and Angela was sick of doing little things. Brennan had occupied her time by identifying bodies from limbo, which is what they were doing now.

Brennan straightened up, brushing her auburn hair from her determined green eyes. "No, Ange, it's ok."

Angela sighed grumpily and sat down on a chair. Across the platform, she could see Zach Addy, Brennan's former grad student and now full anthropologist and Jack Hodgins, the love of her life, playing a very mature game of paper football.

"Hodgins, I don't understand. There is no way that this football design will fly anywhere remotely close to my fingers." Zach complained, reluctantly holding up his fingers in a touchdown symbol. "Trajectory is all off. It's not going to…" He was cut off as Hodgins propelled the paper triangle right between Zach's fingers. Zach stared in awe.

Hodgins grinned. "It's all in the flick, baby."

Angela returned her attention to her best friend, who was scrolling through a list of missing people on a computer. All of a sudden, Brennan straightened up and announced, to no one in particular. "I'm bored."

Hodgins dropped the paper triangle he was holding. "What? The great Dr. Brennan is bored?" Zach flicked his own paper triangle and it hit Hodgins in the face. "Ow!" The entomologist spun on his younger friend, who's expression of triumph had changed to suddenly terrified.

Brennan glared at him. "I wish Booth would show up with something more exciting than a body from limbo." She suddenly realized what she had said. "I think I just wished someone would get murdered. Was that bad?"

"It's ok, Sweetie." Angela said. "I totally get it. Bored out of my skull over here." She glanced at the skull Brennan was holding. "No pun intended. It's been boring without our personal hunk of FBI man meat." Angela sighed. "It's like my favorite soap opera has been canceled." Hodgins laughed, understanding what Angela meant.

Brennan frowned, head swiveling from Angela to Hodgins. "I don't know what that means."

BONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSE

Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI parked his car in front of the Jeffersonian institute. He grabbed the file off his passenger seat and marched up to the doors. The security guard, who by now was so used to seeing him that Booth could have sneaked in with a bomb strapped to his chest and he probably wouldn't have noticed, held the door open without a second glance. Booth was excited. He hadn't seen his partner in about a week and he missed her. He missed her a lot. He hadn't realized just how much until he walked into the air conditioned lab and saw her talking to Angela, waving a skull about in an annoyed fashion. He grinned despite of himself and quickened his pace, anxious to hear her voice again.

Brennan saw him first. "Booth!" She cried happily, a genuine smile lighting up her features.

Booth grinned back. "Hey, Bones." He said affectionately. He nodded around at the other members of the squint squad. "Hey, Hodgins, Zach, Angela."

"Hey, Booth, we were just talking about you." Angela said with a smile.

Booth looked surprised. "What? Really? What were you saying?"

"Nothing." Angela said airily, a devious grin on her face. Sure, she flirted with the sexy FBI agent. She would admit it gladly. However, Angela would never go beyond light flirting. She could never do that to Brennan, or to Booth. Besides, she had Hodgins.

Booth shrugged. He turned back to his partner. "Well, I've got a case for you guys. Some guy was admitted to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in Princeton, New Jersey babbling about bones in the woods. Well, someone took him seriously and went to check. Sure enough…" He let his thoughts trail off, noticing he had the full attention of an extremely excited squint squad. Bones stripped off her gloves and put her hands on her hips. "So? Where are they?"

Booth looked at her like she was crazy. "New Jersey, Bones. I just said that."

"New…" Brennan's eyes suddenly lit with the fire of understanding. "No! Oh, no, I don't care that I just said I wished you'd come with a case, I am not going to New Jersey! Why can't they just send them here?"

Booth rolled his eyes. He'd been expecting this. "Look, Bones, they won't release them and I…" He stopped, and grinned. "You wished I would come with a case?"

Brennan opened and closed her mouth several times. "N-No! Well, I mean, yes, um…I guess…Well, I was bored, and I hadn't seen you in a while and, um…" Brennan motioned wordlessly. Booth's grin got wider. He clapped his hands together.

"Well, you're going to be seeing a lot of me in the next few days. Pack your bags, Bones. We're going to New Jersey."

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**To New Brunswick! Actually, to New Jersey, but if anyone's ever seen 1776: The Musical, you know why I like New Brunswick! :) Please Review!  
**

xxAllTheWorldsAStagexx


	2. Meanwhile, in New Jersey

**So, last chapter was Bones; It only follows that this be House. Enjoy. That's an order, not a suggestion. :)**

**Disclaimer: Really? Do I have to type it again?  
**

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Chapter Two: Meanwhile in New Jersey…

Dr. Lawrence Kutner leaned back in his chair. He held himself up for a total of three seconds before letting himself crash back to earth with a thud. He pushed himself up again.

"Kutner! Stop it!"

Kutner let his chair clatter back to earth. "Sorry." He said, dark eyes appraising the pretty girl sitting across the table from him. Dr. Remy Hadley, much better known by her nickname Thirteen, brushed her light brown hair out of her eyes and went back to the book she was reading.

"What are you reading?" He asked curiously.

Thirteen paused in her reading and flipped the book so Kutner could see. "Bred in the Bone, by Temperance Brennan. I love her books."

Dr. Chris Taub reached out and took the book from his co-worker, pausing so she could mark her place. "Is it any good?"

"Yeah, I've read every one so far."

"I think I read one of hers before." Kutner said, snatching the book from Taub, who let out an annoyed exclamation.

"Oh really? Did you read…" Thirteen began.

Bam! The door to the room burst open and their self proclaimed lord and master Gregory House himself stumped into the room, Dr. Eric Foreman right behind him.

"Look alive, ducklings! We've got a case."

The ducklings sat up straight. A case. Finally. Thirteen put her book back in her pack and watched Foreman toss a file onto the table.

"Thirty-three year old white guy. He's dying and Cuddy says we need to fix it." House cracked his knuckles and reached for the infamous black marker.

Kutner reached for the file at the same time that Thirteen did. Their hands bumped together. Thirteen jumped and snapped her hand away. Kutner swallowed hard and pulled his hand slowly off the table, a flush creeping up his dark cheeks. Thankfully, House's back was turned. Taub looked at them both like they were crazy and picked up the file.

"His heart's failing?"

"Yup!" House said cheerfully. "Isn't that fun?"

He scrawled heart failure on the board in huge letters.

"Is that our only symptom?" Taub asked, scanning the file.

"No, that's why that's the only thing I wrote down."

"Oh."

"Could be a congenital heart defect." said Thirteen.

"No," Kutner said absently, taking the file from Taub. "This says it just started."

"How long ago?" Thirteen stood up and walked around the table to peer over Kutner's shoulder, the awkward moment forgotten. Or at least it was, until Kutner's cologne filled her nasal passages. Thirteen felt her pulse quicken. What the hell? It's just Kutner. You don't even know him that well. Or like him that way at all. Thirteen hated not being in control. She tossed her hair and forced herself to lean further over his shoulder. God, he smelled so good! Kutner's breath caught in his throat as the scent of her shampoo wafted into him, her hair tickling his neck. Lavender…

"Um." He said when he realized that he still hadn't answered her. Sure he liked women. What red blooded male didn't? But…Kutner didn't think there had ever been a woman that had had this effect on him before. "A few days ago. He, uh, collapsed on a hike in the woods after he found those bones."

House stood with his mouth hung open. "No…way." He said, his stunned look transforming into one of full out glee.

Foreman shook his head. Oh no. This couldn't end up well.

Taub hadn't noticed a thing. "Could be a blocked artery that caused the heart attack. His file did say he didn't exercise a lot."

House didn't take his eyes off of Kutner and Thirteen. "Yeah yeah. Go test for it."

Thirteen slid away from Kutner. He glanced at her profile quickly before looking up at House. "All of us? For one test?"

House gave him his classic 'are you an idiot' stare. "Uh, yeah."

The three doctors exchanged looks and left the room. House grinned to himself and began to whistle, his previous bad mood disappearing as he found his activity for the next few days. He grabbed his cane from its hanging place on the white board and moseyed out of the room.

BONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSE

Dr. James Wilson sighed happily and bit into his sandwich. He was actually going to get to eat his lunch without House stealing it. Thump thump thump. Or not.

"Hey, Jimmy, what's up?" House pulled out a chair and sat on it backwards.

Wilson sighed as House dug into his chip bag and munched on a handfulof his sour onion chips.

"So much for eating my lunch in peace."

"Now you're eating it in pieces!" House chortled, swiping Wilson's drink. "I think Kutner wants Thirteen."

Wilson choked on his sandwich. "You're not serious."

House slurped the drink. "And vice versa."

"You are serious." Wilson said in disbelief. "How high are you? You better not let Cuddy catch you."

House snorted. "I'm not high, and even if I was, I wouldn't be stupid enough to let Cuddy catch me."

"House, you're projecting Chase and Cameron onto Kutner and Thirteen!"

"Am not. Kutner has no annoying accent and Cameron's not bi. As far as I know."

"Then why on earth…"

"Because he's always staring at her."

"House, if staring at a person meant you were in love with them, then you and Cuddy would be married by now."

House glared at him. "I didn't say love, I said wants. Shut up."

Wilson at him grinned over his sandwich. "Then you want Cuddy…and vice versa."

House frowned. "That is ridiculous, I do not…Cuddy stares at me?"

Wilson laughed. "See that? You're intrigued in spite of yourself!"

House, realizing he'd been caught, folded his arms. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"You know what?" House stood up and grabbed the bag of chips. "You just lost your chip privileges. Go to your room."

"You mean my office?"

House ignored him, spinning on his heel and marching off, eating Wilson's chips ferociously.

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**Reviews make my day. Really.**

xxAllTheWorldsAStagexx


	3. The House Seal of Approval

**Here's another chappie of my X-over! Hope you enjoy! And thanks to all my reviewers so far. You guys are the light of my life. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own either show.**

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****Chapter Three: The House Seal of Approval**

"Booth! Turn that down!" Brennan snapped at her partner. "I can't hear myself think."

Booth grudgingly turned down the radio. "Sheesh, what put your knickers in a twist?"

"I don't know what that means."

"Nothing. Sheesh. I thought you were happy to see me!" Booth grumbled. Brennan suddenly realized that she had let her displeasure over being whisked away to New Jersey spill over onto Booth.

"Oh, no, Booth, It's not that. I am happy to see you." When Booth didn't respond, Brennan placed her hand on his arm. "Really."

Booth felt tingles fly from the point where her hand touched his arm. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "It's ok." He mumbled. Brennan, satisfied that she had gotten her point across, settled back and continued perusing the file Booth had brought her.

They rode in comfortable silence for quite some time. They were stopped at a red light just after crossing the New Jersey border when Booth chanced a glance at his pretty partner and found to his surprise that she was asleep. He smiled. The harsh noonday sun poured through the windows, lighting up every tired crease in Brennan's face. She must be hot…Booth's mind suddenly realized. He leaned forward and flicked on the air conditioner, pointing it towards his sleeping partner. He then carefully lifted the case file off of her and folded it up, resisting the sudden wild urge to smooth back her hair and kiss her forehead. _Damn that line to hell_. He returned his attention back to the red light.

Brennan awoke to her partner's soft voice in her ear. "Bones? Bones, wake up. We're here." Brennan slowly opened her eyes, smiling sleepily into her bemused partner's face. Not a bad way to be woken up, she thought to herself. Wait, what? Brennan shook her head.

"Hi, Booth."

Booth chuckled. "Hi, Bones."

He and Brennan left the car and headed towards the main hospital doors. Brennan frowned. "There's a motorcycle in the handicap space!" She pointed out, confused.

Booth shrugged. "If someone parked here illegally, it's their problem, not ours."

His hand took its place on the small of Brennan's back, sending a thrill of pleasure running through both of them and they entered the hospital, sighing as a wave of cool air hit their faces. They walked to the front desk.

Booth flipped open his badge. "Special Agent Booth, FBI. This is my partner, Dr. Brennan."

The receptionist was a middle-age woman with way too much eye shadow. She looked up from her Cosmopolitan magazine and batted her eyes at the handsome FBI agent as she glanced carelessly at his badge. "Oh, yeah. You're here about Dr. House's patient. I'd go Dr. Cuddy's office. She's Dean of Medicine." She smiled up at Booth. Booth nodded, folding up his badge and looking uncomfortable.

"Um, thanks."

The woman gave them directions and pointed them to an elevator, smiling and batting her lashes thickly coated in mascara. Brennan folded her arms and glared at the woman, who looked a little put off at the beautiful scientist's evil eye. Booth steered his annoyed partner towards the elevator.

"Sheesh, Bones, you really gave that poor woman a death glare."

"I dislike women who smile and bat their eyes at you simply because you have a badge!" Brennan snapped, angrily jabbing the button for the elevator. A couple of doctors in white coats backed away slowly.

Booth snorted. "Bones, they're not flirting with me because I have a badge. In fact, I'm a little offended that you think that's all it amounts to. It's obviously 'cause they think I'm hot."

Brennan creased her eyebrows and felt Booth's forehead. "You don't feel hot."

Booth sighed. "No, it's…Never mind, Bones. Just…never mind."

The elevator arrived with a ding and the partners climbed in. The doctors waved them on and said they'd take the next one.

"All right, Bones." Booth began as the doors shut. "I've heard about this guy, House. I read his file. He's supposed to be a real ass, so just, try not to tick him off too badly, ok?"

Brennan appraised him. "Well, it's not like I make people angry on purpose!" Ding! The elevator doors slid open before Booth had time to answer. He sighed and followed his partner out onto the hallway.

A slim dark haired woman looked up from a file she was reading as they exited the elevator. "Excuse me." She said. "Can I help you?"

"We're looking for Dr. Cuddy's office." Booth said, flipping open his badge again.

"Well, you've found me!" The woman shook his hand. "I'm Dr. Lisa Cuddy. I'm the Dean of Medicine. You must be Special Agent Booth." Booth nodded.

Cuddy turned to Brennan. "And you must be Dr. Brennan, right?"

Brennan smiled, taking an instant liking to the woman. "Yes, that's right. You have a lovely hospital."

Cuddy's eyes lit up and she smiled warmly. "Thank you very much." She motioned to them. "Come this way, I'll lead you to the bones."

Booth shot Brennan a thumbs up. The followed Lisa Cuddy until they reached closed door. The blinds in the room were drawn shut. Cuddy sighed.

"I should warn you about Dr. House." She began.

Booth held up a hand. "No need." He said. "We've both heard about…um…we read his file." Booth frowned, trying to figure out how to say 'House is an ass' without actually saying it.

Cuddy smiled. "How House is an ass? Good. I'm just warning you, it's much worse in real life than it is on paper." Cuddy opened the door.

There were four people in the room. Three were sitting at the table, wearing white lab coats. There was a woman with long dark hair, a short balding man and another man with dark skin and darker hair. But what caught Brennan's attention was the graying, unshaven man by the white board. He was leaning heavily on a cane and his crystal blue eyes appraised her ruthlessly.

He was the first one to speak. "Excuse me, ladies, but you're early. I ordered the strippers to be sent at five o'clock." He glanced Brennan up and down. "Although, I must say, they've sent some nice ones this time." Booth instinctively gripped her shoulder and glowered at the man.

Cuddy frowned. "House! Behave!"

The man pouted. "Yes, Mommy."

Cuddy sighed. "Where's Foreman?"

The man, House, they presumed, leaned on the table next to him and flipped his cane. "Off dealing with an emergency with our patient."

"House, there is no emergency with your patient. He's supposed to be being prepped for a blocked artery test."

"I know, and you know, but does Foreman know?" House grinned.

Cuddy shook her head. "This is Dr. Gregory House. This is Dr. Taub, Dr. Kutner, and…" Cuddy faltered.

The woman gave her a lopsided smile. "I'm Dr. Hadley, but everyone calls me Thirteen."

"Why?" Brennan asked.

Thirteen shook her head. "It's a long story."

"Ok, you know who we are. Who are you?" House asked, bursting back into the conversation.

"This is Special Agent Booth from the FBI and Dr. Temperance Brennan, his partner. They're here for the bones." Cuddy's eyes narrowed. "I expect you to behave House."

House ignored her. "The FBI? They drag you out here just for us? I feel so special."

Brennan examined him. "Why do you walk with a cane?" She asked abruptly. The whole room froze, all eyes on House and the pretty anthropologist.

House raised his eyebrows. "I idolize my grandfather." He said, sarcasm layered so heavily that even Brennan couldn't miss it. "You're very direct."

Brennan nodded. "Why coat the truth with infantile fantasies that are simply meant to distract you from what you need to know?"

The two stood facing each other, the doctor and the anthropologist. The room held its breath, looking anxiously from House to Brennan and back.

Finally, House abruptly swept up his cane and said, "Come on then, Bone-Lady. Let's go have a looksee at what you came here for." And he marched out the door.

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**Well? I hope it lived up to your expectations. Please review! I'm almost done with Chapter four. It's going to have Chase in it. :)**

**xxAllTheWorldsAStagexx**


	4. Reunited and it feels so good!

**Hey everyone! Sorry, I haven't updated in a while. I wanted to get everything exactly right... but I took a little too long with it. The a reviewer very kindly told me to get my butt in gear, so here I am! With a double update, no less. I finally have BB's case all ironed out and I know where I'm going with the disease too. So, please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or House, much to my great disappointment.**

**Disclaimer number two: I am not a doctor, or a forensic anthropologist. Therefore, this is sure to be riddled with medical and forensic mistakes. Please bear with me on that. I try to keep it as close to truth as I can. Thanks guys!  
**

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Chapter Four: Reunited (and it feels so good!)

Brennan snapped her latex glove on. She leaned over the bones, mind already half gone. "Female…mid thirties. Caucasian. She's given birth…oh, thirteen to fourteen years ago."

The diagnostics team, plus Cuddy watched in amazement. "How can you tell she's Caucasian just from the skeleton?" Taub asked incredulously.

"Well, it's not a full skeleton. There are many bones missing. Whoever went and got these missed quite a few, or they weren't all there, so I can't figure out more until I have all the facts." Brennan said offhandedly.

Booth smirked. That was his Bones.

"Well." Cuddy clapped her hands. "I seem to be leaving these bones in very capable hands." She raised an eyebrow at House. "I have paperwork to do, and you have a patient, if I do recall, who I believe is supposed to be being prepped for some tests now?"

House smacked himself in the forehead. "Shoot! Kutner forgot."

Kutner's mouth dropped open. "Hey, I didn't…"

House glared at him. "Oh, can it."

"Zach! I need you to look at this." Everyone looked back at Dr. Brennan, who was continuing her analysis like nothing was going on around her. She held a phone to her ear and was moving the lens of the live video feed she had requested (demanded). A floppy haired boy appeared in the camera and Brennan flipped her phone back off.

The boy examined the others in the room curiously. "Hi." He said. "I'm Zach."

Brennan made a quick introduction. She began talking about the bones, pointing at an abnormality, with Zach nodding every few words.

House snorted. "She has a lap dog."

Booth glared at him. He didn't like this sarcastic doctor. "Last time I checked, you had three." He muttered quietly, jerking his head towards the three doctors.

House frowned. "Touché." Suddenly he grinned. "Awfully protective of your anthropologist, aren't you?"

Booth glared at him. "Shut up, House."

"That's Dr. House to you."

"Hello, House?" House found Cuddy's hand suddenly resting on his arm. "Your patient needs to be prepped, remember?"

House frowned. "That's not my…" He stopped and sighed. He was, after all, supposed to behave. Might as well make her think he was complying so he could not behave later. "Fine." He spun on his ducklings. "Thirteen, Kutner, Taub. Stop checking out the anthropologist and go prep our patient for those tests before he ends up dead." The ducklings glanced at each other and left the room.

Cuddy smiled. "Thank you, House."

"Oh, I didn't do it for you. I did it 'cause I don't want a visit from Chase today, because that in turn would lead to a visit from Cameron and I'd rather throw myself in front of a train."

Cuddy shook her head, still smiling and left the room. Booth's lips twitched. "So, you and the Dean of Medicine, hm, House?" House shot him a look. How on earth could he have possibly known?

The look House gave him could have killed someone. Booth grinned, knowing he'd hit a nerve. "Bones!" Brennan looked up mid sentence. "I'm going to go and figure out what happened. You ok here?"

"I don't need a babysitter."

"Hey hey hey, you can't go question the patient. He's being prepped for a test." Booth turned on the doctor he was really coming to dislike.

"So what am I supposed to do? There's a murderer out there we have to catch!"

House rolled his eyes. "Well, you're not going to get very far if what's-his-face in there ends up dying. We get access to the patient first, then you."

Booth frowned. "Listen here, you…"

Before Booth could deliver his not very well thought-out threat, the door to the little room flew open and he found himself face to face with a handsome and angry blond man in surgery scrubs waving a manila folder.

"House!" The man's annoyed voice was layered with an Australian accent. "Where the hell are all my surgical tools? I swear if I find out that you took them, I'll…"

"Bobby?"

Chase's eyes widened. Only one person in the world other than his mother ever called him 'Bobby'. The folder slipped from his hands and landed splayed on the floor, paper everywhere.

"Tempe?"

The next moment found Temperance Brennan in the arms of Dr. Robert Chase, both grinning ecstatically and talking at the same time.

"Wow, Tempe, I didn't think…"

"I had no idea you…"

"…ever see you again…"

"…worked here, of all places…"

Both stopped and grinned at each other, out of breath. "It's great to see you again." Brennan said, glancing back down at the partial skeleton.

"You too. You look fantastic." Chase bent to pick up his papers.

"Well, well, Chase, does Cameron know about this little tryst of yours? Cause I can tell her for you." House looked very interested in the situation. Booth's face was completely lacking in any emotion as he quietly watched Chase and Brennan.

Chase glared at House. "Aw, come off it, House, nothing happened. You don't have to tell Allison anything."

Brennan picked up the femur of the skeleton and brought it close to her face, clearly switching gears back to work. "Nothing sexual happened at all…"

"Something could have…" Chase said.

"But nothing did." Brennan put the bone down firmly and raised one eyebrow at Chase who grinned at her.

House focused on the two for about ten more seconds. "Then you have got to be gay." He said, shaking his head.

Chase, Booth, Brennan, and Zach all looked at him in surprise.

House gave Brennan a leery grin. "You had the chance to do that and 'nothing happened'? Some one, Chase, she looks like she's been around the block. Bet she knows what she's doing between those sheets."

Brennan's mouth dropped open in shock and she stripped off her latex gloves and stomped over to House. "You had no right to say that. That was rude and uncalled for. How dare you insinuate I sleep with whoever I can find? I do not sleep with just anybody!" Booth noticed Zach sidling awkwardly off the screen and the video feed went fuzzy.

House raised his hands in mock fear. "You're right, I was bad. I guess you're going to have to discipline me." A grin grew slowly on his face as he watched the pretty anthropologist's face grow angrier.

Brennan, realizing what he was insinuating, frowned and poked him in the chest. "Now, you listen here…"

"Bones, Bones, calm down." Booth's firm hand squeezed his irate partner's shoulder. "Why don't we go to the crime scene, see if they missed any of those bones you were complaining about not having."

Brennan glared at House and stalked out of the room, Booth steering her by the shoulder.

Chase shook his head at House. "You are such an ass."

House stared after Brennan for a moment. "I like that girl. She's amusing." He turned to Chase. "And you, my Aussie friend, just made yourself a very big enemy with the FBI."

"But I didn't do anyth…" Chase's eyes widened. "Ohhh…Oh, shoot."

House's grin widened. "Exactly. This is gonna be a fun case."

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**What'd you guys think? I was a little wary about how this chapter turned out, so please drop me a line about it! Also, I am deathly terrified of OOC's... please tell me if anyone is out-of-character. Chase and Brennan's whole story will come out later. Oh, and please keep reading! Double update! : )**

**xxAllTheWorldsAStagexx  
**


	5. Three 'ships Ahoy!

**This chapter came really easily and was a whole lot of fun to write. I am such a hopeless romantic. ^_^ I finished chapter four and this just kept coming right after it, so you guys get a double update! Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I will own these when I rule the world someday, but as of now, I do not.**

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**Chapter Five- Three 'ships ahoy!

The atmosphere in Booth's standard issue FBI car was almost stifling. Booth had gotten in the front seat and said not a word, just turned on the radio to some classic rock station and stared almost angrily out the window. He hadn't stepped up and defended his partner. Why not? He should have. He would have, too, if every one of House's words had not echoed thoughts of his own at one point or another. He was embarrassed to think of his partner, his best friend, in such a manner, but...damn, that doctor had gotten to him.

What was wrong with Booth? Brennan shot her partner another sideways look, taking in the well chiseled look of his features, and the tight way he was holding the steering wheel.

She sighed impatiently. "What is wrong with you?"

Booth was surprised. He hadn't realized he'd been that open with his emotions. "Nothing."

"How am I supposed to help you if you don't talk to me?"

"I don't need help, Bones, leave me alone."

"Booth…"

"Honestly, Bones, I'm fine. If you're so eager to help someone, maybe you should go help your Australian friend cut people open."

"Booth, that's ridiculous, why would I help Bobby with surgery? He's a perfectly capable doctor and besides, I wouldn't be educated enough on the subject to be of any assistance."

"Oh, that's right, I'm sure _Bobby's_ very capable."

"Why did you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Bobby. You said it with… Ohhh…" Brenan's eyes grew wide as she suddenly understood. Booth realized she'd understood and rubbed his chin, embarrassed.

"Are you jealous of Bobby, Booth?"

Booth shifted positions uncomfortably in his seat. "N-No, why would I be jealous of him?"

Brennan pointed. "You are, Booth, you're not looking at me and rubbing your chin. That mean's you're embarrassed about something and you're lying to me. I'm not an idiot, Booth."

Booth quickly looked at her. "I never said you were!"

"I don't understand why you would be jealous of…"

"I mean, it's not like I have any reason to." Booth said, flicking his turn signal. "It's not like we're…"

"Like we're what?"

"You know…" Booth swallowed. "Dating or anything. If you want to be with someone else, why should I stop you?" He seemed to be talking to himself now more than Brennan.

Brennan placed her hand on Booth's arm. "Booth, I promise, nothing happened between me and Bobby. Look, we met down in Australia and hit it off, but he was, and still is, if I'm not mistaken, in love with someone else from his work. We're just friends."

Booth looked over at Brennan and saw she was serious. He felt relief pour through his system and gave her a hesitant smile.

Brennan smiled back and settled back into her seat. A conversation with Angela suddenly floated to the front of her memory.

_"Sweetie, did you see the look Booth gave you and Sully?"_

_Brennan looked up from her work at her best friend. "No. Booth gave us a look?"_

_Angela laughed. "Oh, come on, Sweetie, the man is so jealous of Sully that I'm surprised he's not green."_

_"Ange, people don't turn green when they are jealous."_

_Angela shook her head. "Brennan, the man is in love with you." She held up her hand to Brennan's protests. "I know, I know, just partners. Believe me, Bren, someday, you'll realize that I'm right."_

For the first time since that conversation, Brennan couldn't help but think… maybe Angela was right after all.

BONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONES

Kutner raised his eyebrows at the patient in the bed before the three doctors. "Well, no wonder he had a heart attack. I wonder how many pounds of red meat he eats in a day."

Thirteen slapped him lightly on the stomach with the patient's history. "Kutner!"

Taub snorted. "He's probably right. This guy's gotta be at least three hundred pounds."

Thirteen glared at them. "You guys are lucky he's sleeping." She marched over to their patient, quickly checking the history for his name. "David?" She asked quietly, resisting the urge to prod his fat. "David?" She asked, a little louder.

The man mumbled something about soup and his hand flopped out from the bed, gripping Thirteen's wrist with a surprisingly strong grip.

"Um…" Thirteen tried to disentangle her hand, but to no avail. "Hey, guys? Help."

Kutner left Taub to finish setting up the equipment and smirked at Thirteen's predicament. "Here." He took her trapped hand with his own, feeling her smooth, lotioned skin under his rather calloused fingers.

Thirteen's years of self control were suddenly put to the test to quell the involuntary gasp she felt rising to her lips. _Why, why, why, did she suddenly start to feel this way around Kutner, off all people? _Kutner peeled David's fingers off Thirteen's wrist and flicked him in the forehead, effectively waking the snoring man. David jerked, opening his eyes and staring wildly around the room.

"Where…oh, yeah, the hospital." David's sleepy eyes focused on Thirteen and Kutner, who had still not released her hand. He looked at their clasped hands and raised his eyebrows. Thirteen suddenly realized and jerked her head out of Kutner's, turning away from him so he didn't see the blush creeping up her cheeks.

Kutner cleared his throat. "Um, Mr. Garth, we need to run a couple of tests on you."

David Garth nodded pleasantly. "Sure." He was, as was already mentioned, a large man, with a seemingly always red face, but a pleasant enough personality.

Thirteen sighed as Taub handed her a length of plastic tubing. Time to get down to business.

BONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONES

House was whistling. He was in a relatively good mood, after all. He had discovered a secret about Chase, and discovered another case of hidden passions in the FBI agent and his beautiful partner. She amused him, that anthropologist. He could perhaps seeing himself becoming friends with her, if she ever stopped hating him. He snickered. Temperance Brennan was almost as fun to rile up as Cuddy.

Ah, Cuddy. She believed he was behaving. She was gonna be maaaaaaaad when she opened her first file cabinet drawer then. House removed the last of her files and placed the bowl of milky cornflakes into the drawer, shutting it with care so as not to spill it. She'd jerk open the file cabinet drawer and slosh, cornflakes everywhere. He then proceeded to place her now "missing" files on one of the fan blades, which was rather tricky with his leg and all, but he managed. After all…no one ever looked up.

Footsteps sounded from outside Cuddy's slightly open door and Cuddy's voice wafted through to his ears, talking to a nurse. He felt a shiver go up his spine. He liked the way her voice sounded. He liked to imagine how it would sound screaming his name in the heat of passion. House smirked, but the smile dropped from his features as quickly as it'd come. Try as he might, he would probably never find out, especially if he kept doing things like this, and he knew that.

A voice, sounding an awful lot like Wilson's snarked quietly at him from inside his mind.

_That's why you do it. You're afraid of commitment, House!_

"Get out of my head, damn you."

_No. You want to ruin anything good you might ever have with Cuddy because you are scared!_

It sounded exactly like Wilson. Damn.

House looked up at the files in the fan, a quick unwelcome pang of quilt nearly getting him back on the chair. Maybe he'd try. This last prank, and then he was done. Maybe.

He sat down quickly on the chair and put his feet up on Cuddy's desk, hooking his cane in the crook of his arms as he heard the door open behind him.

"House? What are you doing in here?"

House stood and stretched. Cuddy watched him warily. "I was looking for a place to sit and nap quietly while my little ducklings were running the tests on David Lardbutt. And you weren't here."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm here now, so get out."

House stretched his lips in a pout. "But, what if I don't wanna?"

Cuddy appraised him. Ever since that kiss, ever since she…lost Joy, House had been different. Cuddy couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was like he was trying way too hard to get himself back into his old rhythm, to the way before the kiss. It was like the kiss had knocked him off center, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to get his life back in the center, or maybe live it of kilt. Either way, it was a little weird.

House watched the wheels turning in Lisa's head and frowned. He didn't want her figuring out what was suddenly wrong with him before he did. He spun on his good heel and his cane made the distinctive thumping noise as he left the room.

Cuddy looked about the room cautiously. House had done something to her office. Now she just had to figure out what.

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**Well? Please tell me what you think! I love feedback. As for when this is set, I'm ignoring Gormagon in Bones because I love Zach and I'm putting this after the first baby episode in House. I'm probably going to ignore most of the Thirteen junk also, and don't be surprised if Foreman rarely shows up. I'm not all that fond of Foreman. ^_^  
**

**xxAllTheWorldsAStagexx  
**


	6. Squirrels and Cornflakes

**Heyyy... So I finally got around to finishing this chapter! Aren't you all proud of me? Sorry it took so long. I promise the next one won't take as long. No, seriously. :) I hope this lives up to any expectations you have and that you like it! **

**Dis: I do not own either Bones or House. Much to my eternal dismay.**

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**Chapter Six- Squirrels and cornflakes  
**

Seeley Booth was staring up into a tree. More specifically, he was staring at a squirrel, which was clutching a nut and staring unblinkingly back at him.

"Booth?"

"Quiet, Bones, I've almost got him."

Brennan straightened up, a femur and superior ulna in her hands. "Booth. You're having a staring contest with a squirrel. Come here and hold open this bag."

Booth sheepishly broke eye contact with the squirrel, which squeaked in triumph, and help open the evidence bag for his partner, who dropped the bones into it with a wry smile.

"I'm very disappointed in whoever gathered these bones. They missed quite a few."

"Well, Bones," Booth stumbled over a tree root as he attempted to follow his partner. "We can't all be as perfect and professional as you."

"I am certainly not perfect, Booth. It is impossible for any one human being to be absolutely perfect at all times." Brennan reached down and picked up what looked like a finger.

"Yeah, well, you know what Bones? It was a compliment. Accept it."

Bones looked up at him. "I was just saying that it was scientifically impossible." She smiled at her partner. "Thank you, though."

Booth smiled back on reflex. She did that to him. She smiled, he smiled, like a well-oiled machine. Suddenly, Brennan's eyes were no longer on him, but were re-fixed on the ground. "Booth?"

She slowly crouched and picked up a small rectangular laminated card. It was torn and muddied and the name wasn't readable. The picture, however, was. Booth put down the bag of bones and leaned over his partner's shoulder. "Is that a… driver's license?"

"Booth. The linings of the brows match. I think this is our murder victim." Both partners looked down at the small card.

"Aw, man." Booth muttered.

BONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEETC

_Thump_. Catch. _Thump_. Catch. House had begun this tempo ten minutes ago and hadn't missed once. _Thump. _Catch.

"His arteries are fine." Kutner's voice broke into his rhythm and the ball fell into his lap.

"Surprisingly. " Taub muttered.

"Taub." Thirteen rolled her eyes. This was the ninth comment plastic surgeon Taub had made about the man's weight.

"I'm just saying! I don't understand how anyone can let themselves get that unhealthy and out of shape."

House shot a look at Taub's pudgy middle. "Says the plastic surgeon who…"

His unkind comment was cut off by the irritated voice of the forensic anthropologist sounding from down the hall, somehow rising over all the noise the hospital made on a daily basis.

"No, Booth, I know it was him." Brennan came bursting into his office. "You!" She pointed at House. "My bones are gone. Did you move my bones?!" The woman looked on the edge of hysterics.

House appraised her with a sly smile. "Now why would I do that, Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan threw up her hands. "I don't know! From what I've seen of you so far, not that it's even close to enough data to make an accurate assumption as to your day-to-day patterns and habits, you have a manipulative personality that seems to enjoy irking people to gauge their reactions and learn more about them and where the hell are my bones!?"

Booth entered the office to catch the tail end of Brennan's rant. Apparently, the anthropologist had run on ahead of him. "Whoa, ok, Bones, calm down." He gripped her shoulders and rubbed them soothingly.

Kutner stepped forwards hesitantly. "Uh, I moved the bones, Dr. Brennan. They're in one of the examination rooms down by the clinic."

Brennan spun on him, breaking out of Booth's hold. "Why would you do that? You could have compromised the integrity of the bones and we could have lost key evidence that would lead to our killer!"

"Well, we figured it would be easier for you to work in your own room and…" Kutner faltered, looking from the irate anthropologist to her partner.

"Bones, you know what, calm down. You know, they are doctors. I'm sure your bones are fine." Booth continued to rub Brennan's back comfortingly. "You know you guys really ought not to mess with a murder investigation, and maybe perhaps actually let me question our suspect before a murderer walks!" Now the FBI agent sounded annoyed.

Kutner looked apologetic and a little frightened. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize…" He shot a shakey look around and Taub and Thirteen.

Brennan took a deep breath. "It's alright." She said finally. "Like Booth said, you are all very professional doctors. I'm sure that the bones are fine."

Thirteen snorted. When Kutner looked sideways at her she mouthed the words "very professional" at him and he smirked.

"Can I question my guy now? We really need to talk to him sometime before his eventual death." Booth dropped his hands from Brennan's shoulders and looked from doctor to doctor.

Taub, Kutner and Thirteen all looked toward House, who had been surprisingly quiet throughout the entirety of the conversation, watching all through steepled fingers. "Sure." He said finally, grabbing his cane and standing up. "Knock yourselves out. After all, what's a man's life when there's a dead one to save? There's somewhere I have to be."

He hurriedly stumped out of the room. Brennan looked at Booth. "Was that my fault?"

Thirteen shook her head. "Don't worry. He probably just went to go bother Cuddy or Wilson."

And as it turns out, she was exactly right.

**********

The door to Lisa Cuddy's office flew open with a bang. Cuddy looked up to see her secretary gesturing apologetically through the window at the crippled doctor that had decided to disturb her peace. "Hello, House. What do you want?"

House didn't answer her, choosing instead to walk over to her large bookshelf and examine the contents.

"House!" Cuddy half-stood out of her chair as House began rifling through her books, mostly medicinal journals.

House sighed. "Of course. It's all medicinal journals and studies about how we still can't cure AIDS. Why don't you have any good thrillers? Like, maybe a novel by the infamous and oh-so-sexy Temperance Brennan?" He watched Cuddy carefully beneath his graying eyebrows. He was not disappointed.

A flash of…something raced through Cuddy's body. Sexy? He thought the forensic anthropologist was sexy? "House, get out of here. I have a ton of work to do." She snapped irritably, looking back down at the papers scattering her desk.

House felt a grin tug at his lips. "Ok. I got what I wanted anyway." He spun on his good heel and walked out of the room, whistling. Cuddy stared after him, confused.

What had House wanted? Cuddy stood up out of her chair, suddenly very unable to concentrate on any work. She walked over to her file cabinet absentmindedly, thoughts still on House. That man was so… infuriating sometimes. And yet, there were others when he could be nice, if he really tried. Or if he could get something out of it. "Face it, Cuddy." She told herself. "He won't ever be the guy you think you want him to be."

She grabbed the handle of her first file cabinet drawer and yanked, hard. In that instant, she discovered why she'd caught House in her office earlier that day. Sour milk and soggy cornflakes sloshed all over her files and some even managed to find its way onto her blouse and skirt. Cuddy's nose was hit with a rancid wave of stench that only sour milk can give off.

"Ohhhh…" She moaned, wiping at her front uselessly. "Damn it… HOUSE!"

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**So? Did you like it? I hope that you did... and I promise that the next update won't take this long. Promise. Please review and tell me what you thought!**

**xxAllTheWorldsAStagexx  
**


	7. Please Don't Stop my Heart

**See? I told you it wouldn't take me as long to update again! :) I hope you like this next chapter of _The Bones in the House. _Sweets finally makes an appearance. :) Enjoy!**

**Dis: I, to my great sadness, do not own either Bones or House or anyone in between.**

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**Chapter Seven- Please Don't Stop my Heart**

Lance Sweets was staring, mouth slightly open.

"I bet he could gulp me down in one mouthful!" The psychiatrist whispered.

The three members of the Jeffersonian team were crowded together in David Garth's room. Booth was standing over the bed and Sweets was leaning over his shoulder. Brennan, who was leaning in the doorway, shook her head. "It's physically impossible for the man, no matter how large he is, to fit an entire human being in his mouth and swallow him whole. He's not a python, Sweets."

Sweets looked at Brennan and sighed. "Dr. Brennan, we really need to work on your metaphorical skills. Bring it up next session."

Booth leaned over and tapped David Garth's arm. "_Psssst_. David." He whispered. "Daaaavid…" Booth straightened up and looked at his partner. He shrugged.

Brennan stepped over and shouted, "DAVID!"

The stout man's eyes flew open. "What? What is it? Where am I?"

"Bones!" Booth raised his hands. "Hey, calm down, buddy. I'm Seeley Booth of the FBI and this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"I'm Dr. Lance Sweets." Sweets put in from behind Booth. David looked confused.

"FBI?"

"We just need to ask you a couple of questions." Booth said.

Brennan watched her partner begin the questioning with an impassive face. Booth was so good at reading people. He could just…tell. It was his gut, they liked to joke. But Brennan knew that your gastro-intestinal system had nothing to do with being able to tell if a woman was having an affair or not. She could read bones like no one else, but when it came to real people… She was absolutely hopeless. Suddenly, Brennan's phone buzzed and snapped her out of her musings.

She stepped outside the room to answer it. "Hello?"

_"Hi there, Sweetie. How's New Jersey?"_

"Hi, Angela. It's fine."

_"We have the results on that driver's license you scanned over to me. It's not a driver's license. It's a membership card to the Hiker's Group of Princeton. Their motto is No mountain too high, no woods too thick. Marilyn Torree was a member."_

"Marilyn Torree?" Brennan asked, looking back into the room at David Garth. "Thanks, Ange."

Brennan hung up the phone and moved back into the room in time to hear Booth say, "So you have no idea where these bones came from? You just happened to stumble upon them while out hiking?"

David nodded. "That's right."

"Was anyone out hiking with you?"

"Um, yeah, my niece, Amanda. She's the one who insisted I begin exercising again."

"Smart kid." Muttered Sweets.

Booth glared at him before returning to his line of questioning. "And you called 911 immediately after you noticed the bones."

David looked slightly put out. "Yeah, of course. I mean, they were human bones. My niece is way into the whole bones thing…she was Goth for a little while before she changed schools."

Brennan seized her chance and tapped Booth on the shoulder, firmly not allowing her mind to fixate on his broad shoulders. "Booth. That was Angela, on the phone. She's ID'd the victim. Her name is Marilyn Torree." There came a gasp from both the bed and from the doorway. Brennan continued, unabashed. "She was a member of the Hiker's Group of Princeton."

"Marilyn!? Marilyn is the dead body from the woods?" A female's high pitched voice shot through the room. Brennan and Booth turned toward the door away from a pale and sweating David to face a young woman in the doorway, about twenty-three from the look of her. She had long black hair that was streaked a blood red. She had her ears pierced all the way up and was wearing a shirt with an obscure band logo on it that neither Booth nor Brennan nor Sweets recognized. This had to be Amanda. She snapped her bright pink bubblegum in an annoying fashion, a stricken look on her otherwise pretty face.

"Did you know Marilyn?" Booth was back to business.

"Yes." David's voice wheezed from the bed. "I knew her very well. She and I hiked in the same group." He looked pale, and coughed. "Marilyn, oh, Marilyn. I can't believe that I saw… that those were her…oh god." He coughed again, and this time, blood appeared on his hand.

"Uncle David!" Amanda darted to her uncle's bed and placed her hand on his shoulder.

Brennan spun and poked her head outside the door. "Hey, we need help in here!" She shouted.

Booth ushered Sweets and Brennan out into the hallway past a flock of nurses in colorful scrubs rushing to David Garth's room. Amanda appeared in the hallway a moment later, obviously having been shoved aside. She cast a worried look into her uncle's room before turning to the partners and their therapist. "So…it was really Marilyn that you found?"

"Yeah, listen what can you tell me about what Marilyn is like? Habits, enemies, etc." Booth whipped out a notepad and watched Amanda expectantly.

Amanda wiped her nose, letting her bubblegum snap loudly. "I don't knew what to tell you… Marilyn was really nice. She always helped the new hikers get to know people in the group. I think she might have had problems with her boyfriend, though. I caught her crying the other day."

Booth nodded. "Ok. Thank you…"

The girl looked up at the FBI agent. "Amanda." She just barely whispered, confirming what the partners already suspected. "Amanda Garth."

******

House's beeper was going off. He groaned and cracked open his eyes, grabbing at his belt to dislodge the irritating menace. The crippled doctor was lying on a couch in the staff break room, sleeping. Or, he was sleeping, until his patient decided to let his heart stop. Blasted patients. Always thinking about themselves.

Thirteen poked her head into the break room. "House? Our patient's dying."

"So?"

"Oh, no reason. Just thought you'd like to know." _Sarcastic little…_

"Let's go, House."

_Kutner._ "Ah, tell him to die later. I'm sleeping."

"Wrong. You were sleeping." _And that lovely ethnic drumbeat would be Foreman. _

"The man's heart stopped, House. He's going to die unless we find out why." _Taub. How fun, the gang's all here._

House kneaded his eyes with the palms of his hands. Clearly he wasn't going to be getting any more sleep on his work time. "Well?" He snapped. "Have you seen this guy? He weighs a billion pounds. Heart attack. Check his arteries. Now go away."

"We already checked his arteries, House. Remember? They're clean." Thirteen sounded rather annoyed.

"Maybe you should go check again. Wouldn't be the first time you've messed up a test."

"Hey, House, leave Thirteen alone. She did the test just fine." _Kutner? Hmm… Figures._ House opened his eyes to find his team plus Foreman glaring at him.

He sighed and sat up, grabbing his cane and getting slowly, but surely to his feet. "Alright. Why did his heart stop then? Since you all want to work so badly, you must have some ideas."

The team was silent. Taub looked at Kutner, who glanced at Thirteen, who quickly tore her eyes from him to glance back at Taub. No one seemed to want to go first.

"Arrhythmias." Kutner finally spoke up.

"Atherosclerosis." Taub also found his voice.

"His arteries were clean." Foreman sounded faintly irritated.

"PVC's." Thirteen seemed to have warmed to the Arrhythmias idea. She looked excitedly at House. "His heart is continually skipping beats and no one noticed because of all the fat."

"CAD." Kutner revised his theory.

House was silent for a moment, considering the possibilities. "Thirteen. You take Kutner and go run some tests for the PVC. Taub, go run his house for toxins."

Thirteen paled slightly. "Couldn't I…"

"No." House kicked his cane up and let it rest against his shoulder. "Now go."

Kutner bit his lip and followed a stiff-necked Thirteen out of the room.

Taub fixed his boss with a level-headed gaze. "Are you purposely forcing them to do tests together?"

House gave him a wicked grin. "No. What would ever make you think that?"

Taub shook his head and he got up and left, followed by Foreman. House grabbed the remote to the TV and settled himself back down onto the couch. Maybe he could catch the tail end of _Love and Medicine: The Story of Juanita and Ricardo._ He turned on the TV and, closing his eyes, let the sounds of the Spanish actors' voices lull him off to sleep again.

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**Well? Please leave a review!**

**xxAllTheWorldsAStagexx  
**


	8. Unnerving

**Hola mis amigos! No, I'm not dead. I just have several things started and not enough finished. I'm sorry... This chapter's mostly filler, but the good news is that I know exactly where the next chapter's going and you can expect it up in a few days. So if you could just live through this chapter, I promise you a quick update on Chapter Nine. Thank you, as always, for reading and reviewing. This chapter is for my lovely reviewers who kicked me in the behind and said, "Get moving!" I truly do love you. :D**

**Dis: Yadda Yadda Yadda...  
**

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**Chapter Eight-Unnerving  
**

Brennan found Chase sitting by himself in the cafeteria, eating a sandwich and reading a book. "Hey, Bobby."

Chase looked up and smiled through his mouthful of roast beef. He swallowed audibly. "Tempe! Hey! Where's your partner?"

Brennan sat down across from him. "He and Sweets went to go and question some people from the Hiker's Union. I'm analyzing the bones and seeing what I can find from there. I sent data back to my team at the Jeffersonian and thought I'd get something to eat while I waited for their results… what are you reading?"

Chase looked embarrassed. "Oh, it's noth—"

"_Bred in the Bone?"_ Brennan looked amused.

Chase grinned at her. "I happen to know the author."

Brennan laughed and looked around her. "So, this is where you work every day?"

Chase nodded. "I work in surgery, and… Hey, there's Cameron. Allison!"

Brennan turned to see a short blond girl smiling and waving at them. "Who's that?" She asked, raising one eyebrow at her friend.

Chase stood up and gave Cameron a hug. "Brennan, this is my fiancée, Allison Cameron. Allison, this is a good friend of mine, Temperance Brennan."

Cameron gave Brennan a once over. "Hello…" She said rather stiffly.

The smile Brennan gave Cameron was genuine. "Hi." She stood up, sensing that she should leave them be. "Well, I'd better get back to my bones now. Have a good lunch, Bobby. It was nice to meet you, Allison." Brennan left the pair and the cafeteria and made her way back to the little room that Kutner had set up for her. Now that she had made sure that the integrity of her bones hadn't been compromised, she found that she really did like having an examination room to herself. She would have to thank Kutner when she got a chance. Allison Cameron looked like a nice girl too.

Brennan snapped on a pair of latex gloves and bent low over the skeleton, feeling her somewhat overly analytical mind settle into a familiar pattern. She picked up the left femur and got to work.

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Seeley Booth was not a happy individual. First of all, the Hiker's Union was headquartered in a small building right on the fringe of the woods. It was rather cramped and smelled strongly of new leather. Secondly, he was here with Sweets, and not Brennan. He took the opportunity to shoot his therapist an irritated glance as they stood together in the lobby of the Hiker's Union. Sweets was looking around him with interest.

"You know…" He began. "Hiking is used primarily by people who want to appreciate the beauty of the outdoors. Rarely is it used for a workout routine, although it makes sense to be also considered as…" He trailed off at the look on Booth's face.

Booth leaned over the little reception counter again and hit the bell for a third time. "Is it really so hard…" He asked, his voice rising with his temper. "To get a little service around here!?"

Sweets put his hand on the crook of Booth's arm. "Agent Booth, you really should keep your temper down."

Booth looked down at Sweet's hand on his arm and slowly, dangerously, raised one solitary eyebrow. Sweets quickly removed his hand. "All I'm saying is that people would probably respond much…"

"Can I help you? … Oh, Agent Booth!" Booth and Sweets turned back to the counter. Amanda Garrett standing behind the counter, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Can I help you, Agent Booth?" She asked, slightly warily. "Nothing's happened to my uncle, has it?"

"Oh, no." Booth quickly reassured the girl. "David is fine. We just had some questions for some of the employees here… Do you work at the Hiker's Union, Amanda?"

Amanda nodded. "Yeah, I work here with my aunt, uncle and Marylin, before she died." The girl's eyes moistened and she looked down at her clasped hands, biting her lip.

"Amanda? Amanda, who's out there?" A woman appeared from the back room behind the counter. She was an older woman, slim, with brown hair that was just showing signs of grey. Premature lines graced her face as she quickly looked over Booth and Sweets. "Oh, Lord, David's not…?"

Booth sighed inwardly. "No, ma'am, David's fine. I'm Special Agent Booth and this is Lance Sweets."

"Oh…" the woman let a sigh of relief tumble from her lips. "I'm Grace Garth… David's wife."

Booth nodded solemnly, slipping easily into the role of concerned FBI agent. "Of course, ma'am. We just have a few questions we'd like to ask you."

"Of… of course." Grace led Booth and Sweets over to a small table and pulled out a chair. "Please, have a seat." Booth and Sweets sat, Sweets letting his eyes flick over the woman, slowly categorizing her ticks and movements. Booth flipped open his little white detecting pad.

Grace met his eyes. "What would you like to know?"

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Thirteen stared down at the test results, chewing her lower lip. "Damn."

Kutner looked up from where he was reorganizing the equipment used for the tests. "Problems, Thirteen?"

Thirteen turned back to him. "The tests are clean for PVC's."

Kutner sighed. "Damn. We were wrong."

"No, I was wrong." Thirteen glared down at the crisp white sheets of paper as though they were somehow responsible for the results they carried. Kutner leaned over and took the results and Thirteen once again got a huge whiff of his cologne. _Spicy… no… musk, I think._

Kutner forced himself back to the seat he'd been occupying before, attempting to focus his Thirteen-addled brain on the papers in his hand. _Damn, she's beautiful…_

"Oh, well." He said, a bit shakily as he stood. "So, you were wrong. Suck it up and come up with a different idea."

Thirteen shot him a look, then relaxed into a smile. "Right. So what have we ruled out?"

Kutner glanced at the papers in his hands. "Well, PVC's."

Thirteen glared at him and snatched the papers back. "And the heart attack was not just because of his fat."

Kutner thought for a moment. "He coughed up blood… right?" He said slowly. "That means blood somehow has to have gotten into the lungs. Let's check out his lungs and see what's up there."

Thirteen's eyes lit up. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?"

Kutner grinned. "Because I'm awesome. Don't deny it."

Thirteen rolled her eyes. "We should go tell House."

Kutner groaned. "Great. Let's go wake him up… again."

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Greg House was, at the moment that Thirteen and Kutner were discussing him, still fast asleep in the employee lounge, _Love and Medicine _long over. Suddenly, the door flew open and slammed against the wall, serving the purpose, whether intended or not, of waking the thoroughly annoyed doctor up.

He kept his eyes screwed tightly shut. Sure, it hadn't worked the last time his team had awoken him, but perhaps it would this time. The second time's the charm, after all.

There was the sound of women's heels, clicking over the hard tiled flooring by the kitchen portion of the lounge. House frowned slightly. Cuddy? No… Cuddy would have thrown something at him at this point. He let his mind float off for a few moments daydreaming about his boss before he shook his thoughts back to the mystery heels. Hm. Every other nurse in the building would have hightailed it out of the room the moment they saw Greg House asleep on the couch… It wasn't Cuddy… Cameron would have also talked to him by this point. Thirteen would have come with Kutner… So who…?

"Dr. House?" The woman's crisp professional voice brought a smirk to House's lips. Ah. Dr. Brennan.

House cracked one eye open. "I'm sleeping, Dr. Brennan." He said snidely, mimicking her use of his title.

The pretty anthropologist's head floated into his vision wearing a slightly confused look. "No, you're not. I'm talking to you, and you appear coherent. I need your help."

House snorted. "Forget it. I told you, I'm sleeping."

"What about your patient?"

"He can handle himself."

"House." This time he heard the annoyance in the woman's voice and he opened his eyes again. She had dropped his title and was standing with her hands on her hips, looking for all the world like Lisa Cuddy reincarnated. He swallowed and sat up, wincing as his leg muscle stretched. Brennan's eyes found him unconsciously rubbing his leg and interest filled her eyes. Not pity… interest.

"What happened to your leg?" She asked, bluntly.

House looked up at her, trying to figure out what her game was. When it appeared she was just going to stand there until he answered, he grunted, "Infarction."

Brennan then did something which surprised House, and not much surprised the cynical doctor. She plopped right down on the couch next to him. "Really? What was the alternative?"

House stared at her. What was wrong with this woman? Couldn't she see that this was a subject best left alone? "That or lose the leg." He said. For some reason, Cuddy's face began swirling in his mind. He found himself continuing to spout words at an alarming rate. "That woman you met on the way here, Lisa Cuddy, was the one who ordered it."

Brennan raised one solitary eyebrow, unaware that twenty miles away, her partner was doing the exact same thing. "And…?"

House glared at her, clamming up instantly. "And what?"

Brennan shrugged. "The raised pitch at the end of your sentence indicated a subconscious urge to keep talking."

House stood up, grabbing his cane from where it was leaning against the couch. "Yeah, well, I don't."

Brennan stood as well. "That's fine with me. I tend to bow to Booth's expertise in the area of human emotion anyway. Even if you did decide to share something personal with me, I would have no idea how to respond. Now where is the bathroom?"

House was almost to the door. He paused at her question. "Behind you." He said gruffly, before turning and marching out of the lounge.

Brennan looked behind her. "Ah."

House continued to walk in a determined fashion down the hallway of the hospital. He dodged a nurse and sped his pace slightly. Damn, but that anthropologist was unnerving. Suddenly, footsteps behind him caused him to turn slightly. Thirteen and Kutner (what a shocker) were waving a file at him.

"Negative on the PVC." Thirteen said before House even had time to open his mouth.

"But we've had another idea." Kutner jumped in.

"Well, Kutner had another idea." Thirteen said, glancing at her fellow.

"Well, yeah, but it's the lungs, House. He coughed up blood; that must mean that it got in the lungs somehow."

"Should we go test...?"

"...Or should we get Chase to open him up?"

House's two ducklings watched him with bated breath, after not letting him speak for several rounds of dialogue. House sighed. "Geez, you two are like a married couple." He said, feeling a small jolt of triumph at the panic in his ducklings' eyes. He smirked. "Go find Chase." He continued. "I want to talk to him before he opens up Ronald McDonald's biggest fan."

With those words, House turned on his good heel and continued to his previous destination—Cuddy's office.

* * *

**Like it? Love it? Hate it? Hope not... Please review and I'll update quickly!**

**XOXO**

**Allie  
**


	9. Sweet Dreams are Made of These

**Hey everyone, thanks so much for the awesome reviews so far! Here's a nice long chapter to thank you for it! I hope you enjoy it, and please keep those reviews coming! :D**

**Dis: I don't own House or Bones.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Nine- Sweet Dreams are Made of These**

Booth stepped back into the coolness of Princeton Plainsboro with relief. Man, it was hot. Sweets tapped him on the shoulder. "Give me some time to organize my notes and then I can give you a profile—"

"Yeah, Sweets, that's great." Booth waved him off and started down the hallway towards where he knew his partner was holed up, working on her bones. He dodged a nurse, slid open the door to the examination room, and leaned on the frame, watching his Bones work. Brennan stood, bent over her table, her index finger just barely tracing the contours of a vertebrae bone. Her brow creased slightly and her lips moved soundlessly as she stared at the source of her irritation.

Booth felt a smile tug at his lips. "Bones."

Brennan jumped slightly. "Booth, you scared me!" She glared accusingly at him. "I'm afraid I don't have anything just yet…"

Booth grinned. "Sorry, there, Bones." He held up his notepad. "Doesn't matter. We've got a suspect."

Brennan snapped off her latex gloves instantly. "Why didn't you say so? Let's go!"

* * *

House dodged a nurse and turned the corner. The white walls flashed past his vision without his really seeing them. And then… There it was. His destination. That conversation with Brennan had shaken him more than he wanted people to know, and he needed to talk to somebody. Or at least, get some semblance of normalcy back into his life. He blew past the secretary's desk (odd. She was gone) and paused, his hand on the doorknob to Cuddy's office.

_Why?_

House frowned. Voices in his head were not exactly uncommon, but he hated them all the same. Particularly when they sounded like Wilson, which they did more frequently then he cared to admit. Damn.

_See? You're rattled. And where do you flee when you're rattled? Cuddy. I told you._

"Shut up." House growled.

_Just saying._

"I said shut up." House pushed open the door and stumped into the room. Cuddy looked up, surprised, the pen she'd been using to sign a paper dangling from her fingers.

"House! What do you wa… Are you ok? You look a little…" She half rose from her chair.

House shot a glare at her and Cuddy's words trailed off.

"I'm fine." He snapped.

Cuddy stood up from behind her desk and crossed to where he was standing. "House." She said softly. She reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair off of his forehead, which was suddenly sticky with nervous sweat. "Talk to me. I'm your _friend._" Cuddy stepped forward, encroaching heavily into his personal space, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"H-Hey." House said, taking a step backwards, attempting to disentangle her iron grip. Something was wrong. This wasn't Cuddy.

Cuddy smiled playfully, her dark hair falling out of its meticulous up-do into her face. She brushed it away with a simple, yet sexy gesture. "Shh." She put a finger to House's tingling lips. She leaned forward into him, so he could feel her hot breath on his ear. "House…" She whispered. "Isn't this what you want? I thought you liked me…" House let his cane thump to the floor, his back as straight and stiff as a board.

"I… I don't…" He mumbled, trying to keep his focus off the warm body that was suddenly pressed onto his. Suddenly the warmth withdrew and Cuddy's face swam back into view. Pain lanced her features and House suddenly received a flash of understanding. He was hurting her.

"You have to decide, House." Cuddy said, turning away from him. Her hair fell in rivers of chocolate down her back. "Stop playing with me." She suddenly spun back and glared at him, the normal pissed-off Cuddy returning in full force.

"Damn it, decide, House!"

House swallowed at her sudden change. "Decide what?" He snapped at her, feeling his own temper rise.

Cuddy strode forward and grabbed him by the upper arm. "You have to decide. You can't live your life like this." She motioned around her to the office and the hospital in general.

House wrenched away from her. "Who the hell says you can tell me how to live my life? Maybe I'm perfectly happy like this!"

Cuddy laughed, but it was a hollow, abrasive sound, completely joyless. "House, if there's one thing I understand completely about you, it's that you're not happy." She turned him around and pointed him towards her door. "Decide." She murmured into his ear. "Will you take a chance and be happy? Or will you play it safe and be miserable the rest of your life?" She pulled away slightly. "Decide… and while you do, get the hell outta my office! I've got work to do!" She shoved him, hard, and House tumbled through the door and into the blackness beyond.

* * *

He awoke with a start to find himself lying flat on his back on the operating table in surgery. An extremely annoyed voice was calling his name over the intercom from observation.

"House! Damn it, wake up and get off my table!" House's tired eyes found the source of the voice—his Australian former employee-turned-surgeon was glaring at him the glass-walled booth.

House swung his legs off the table, wincing slightly as the movement jarred his disabled leg. "I wasn't sleeping." He informed Chase, matter-of-fact, slipping easily back into his cynical role. "I was waiting for you."

Chase sighed. "Why didn't you just have me paged?"

"Because I was too lazy, and I knew you'd be here eventually." _That's right._ _I was waiting for Chase and I fell asleep… So, that was a dream? Damn._

Chase motioned him up into the observation room and House, for once, complied, stumping up into the glass-walled booth. "Well, I'm here now." He said, sitting down in one of the swivel chairs. "What do you want?"

House stared down into surgery at the table that had until recently been his bed. "How did you meet Temperance Brennan?"

Chase started. Whatever he had been expecting, it clearly wasn't that. "Why do you want to know that?"

"I'm writing a memoir on my life."

Chase sighed. "Tempe and I met at a dig in Australia. She was there checking out some bones that were found in the Outback, and I was called in to do some medical work on one of the diggers. We hit it off."

"Did you do it?"

Chase looked scandalized. "House!"

House grinned wickedly. "Huh, way to go, there, Dingo Dave. I didn't think you had it in you."

"We didn't do anyth—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Listen, I need to do an exploratory surgery on our tub of lard."

Chase looked surprised at the sudden shift in conversation. "House, Thirteen and Kutner already talked to me. I can't do that. His heart's too weak."

House gave him a piercing stare. Chase sighed inwardly. He hated that look. That look usually meant House had a good argument prepared.

"He was coughing up blood earlier, Chase. That is in no way connected to the heart and we don't know what's wrong with him. If you don't poke around a little, he could die." House looked triumphant.

Chase sighed. It was no use arguing with a stubborn House. If there was one thing he'd learned while working for him, it was that. "Fine." He said, defeated. "But I won't be happy about it."

* * *

Booth's car crunched up the gravel to the small, beat-up mobile home beyond. Brennan felt her nose wrinkle slightly as she peered at the trailer. "This is where Charlie Fluggs lives?"

Booth glanced over at his partner. "You know, Bones, not everyone has made millions of dollars writing bestselling novels. Normal people can't afford nice tv-less flats."

Brennan unclipped her seatbelt and gave Booth a pointed look. "Not only that, but my job as a forensic anthropologist also pays very well, considering I'm the best in my field."

Booth shook his head. "Bones…"

But Brennan had already gotten out of the car. Booth sighed and slammed the door shut and followed Brennan up the walk towards the trailer. The mobile home was a little worse off than most mobile homes that the partners had seen over the years. The wheels on it were long gone, and the trailer sat on four cinderblocks above the ground. A pair of man's briefs hung, lonely, on the clothesline, waving in the wind. Beer cans and Taco Bell takeout bags littered the ground around the lot. The screen door flew open in the wind and banged loudly against the metal side of the trailer.

Brennan glanced back at Booth. "How did Charlie Fluggs know the victim?"

Booth fingered the gun at his waistband. "Boyfriend of four months. Got a statement from Amanda Garth saying that he was quote 'bad news'."

Brennan raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Apparently…" Booth kicked aside an empty beer can. "He drinks."

"I'd say a lot." Brennan murmured, looking around her.

Booth suddenly held up his arm. "Bones." He whispered. "I want you to stay behind me, do you understand? This isn't one of those times where I tell you to stay behind me and you just charge right on in anyway. The door is unlatched and open. This is a potential hostage situation so stay. Behind. Me."

Brennan didn't speak a word, simply nodded, perhaps recognizing the urgency in Booth's words. The two crept up the rickety wooden stairs to the open screen door and Booth leaned against the frame.

"FBI!" He called out. There was silence. Nothing moved. All was still.

Suddenly, there was a sharp banging noise. Booth instinctively ducked and his strong arm forced Brennan's head down. He waited for the briefest of seconds before jumping into the trailer, his gun outstretched. Brennan watched her partner dart through the door, a familiar, but irrational feeling of fear jolting though her. It wasn't as though she had anything to be afraid of. Booth could take care of himself; he'd proven that to her time and time again. Still, Brennan couldn't help the thrill of emotion that ran through her from time to time.

Suddenly, Brennan spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. Her head whipped around to see a dark figure tearing down the path.

"Booth!" She cried. Brennan leaped down the steps and tore after the figure, not waiting for her partner's response. Booth ran to the door of the trailer after hearing his partner's cry and spotted the figure. He swore and followed her. _Why is it that whenever I tell her to stay, she never listens?_

Brennan never took her eyes off the figure she was chasing. Her blood pumped in her ears and her breath came in swift pants. She leaped over a small child's bicycle and continued running through the trailer park.

Just when she feared she would never catch up with the man (for it had to be a man; the body structure couldn't possibly be a woman), he made the mistake of looking behind him. In the brief moment that it took for her prey to glance over his shoulder, he missed the intricate detail of the car backing out into the road and crashed headlong into the side of a grey '03 Ford Taurus. The man fell backwards, his angry shout ripping the air. Brennan caught up to him in no time, grabbing him by the back of the neck and slamming him onto the hood of the stopped car, severely frightening the woman at the wheel.

Booth arrived only seconds later. He grabbed the man from Brennan and dug his elbow into his back. "Charlie Fluggs?" He asked, anger lacing his tones.

The man glared up into Booth's face. His nose was bleeding from the impact with the Taurus. He was watery, beady blue eyes and a five o'clock shadow. His hair was dirty yellow and he smelled of stale alcohol. "Yeah." He snapped in response to Booth's question.

Booth slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. "You're under arrest for running from a federal agent."

The woman had gotten out of her car and was looking at Charlie, horrified. "I didn't hit him, did I?" She asked, fearfully.

Booth shook his head, reassuring her. He glanced to his right at Brennan. "Are you alright, Bones?"

Brennan nodded. "Yeah."

Booth sighed in relief, turning his attention back to his captive.

"Um… Booth?"

Booth glanced up at his partner. "Yeah?"

"You say you're going to arrest him… but where are we going to hold him? We're not working with any local police so far."

Booth looked from Brennan, to Charlie, then back to Brennan.

"Damn it!" He swore.

* * *

**Well? I hope you liked it! I'm not sure how I feel about House's dream, but so Huddy fluff was just aching to be written. Please leave a review!!!**

**xoxo**

**Allie  
**


	10. Aliens and Lovebirds

**Hello, All! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews so far! You guys are the greatest. :D I hope you all enjoy the Tenth chapter!**

**NOTE: Thank you, LadyLuck523 for correcting me on the color of Cuddy's eyes.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bones or House, nor am I an anthropologist or a doctor.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Aliens and Lovebirds**

Alien probing. That's what surgery always reminded him of. No matter how many times that Greg House observed a surgery, he was always put in mind of little green men poking and prodding people with sticks. Or in this case, an Aussie in pale green scrubs.

House rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. Hopefully this would reveal something. If not…

The door behind him slid open with a slight whoosh. Heels clicked and clacked loudly, the sharp sound echoing off the enclosed walls. House didn't move. He knew exactly who it was. Only one person wore that particular brand of perfume. House barely restrained himself from inhaling deeply. The heels stopped next to him, causing the small booth to fall silent. Heat from her body warmed his left arm.

"How's it going, House?" Cuddy's voice was quiet.

House shrugged. "Well, we dug around the fat and found several TV remotes, a half eaten bag of potato chips and a cat." He said sarcastically. "But he's stable."

Cuddy snorted. "Well, I came to ask if you've seen the anthropologist and her partner yet. They're supposed to be back by now."

House raised an eyebrow, taking his first glance at his boss. She was looking up at him and their eyes met, blue mixing with blue-grey, ice with cloudy warmth. House quickly tore his eyes away and focused again on Chase, memories of images and sensations flying up his spinal cord. "Why would you come all the way down here just to ask me a question?" He let a slow grin slide across his face. "Did you miss me?"

Cuddy's breath left her in a whoosh. "No, House, believe me, I've had a wonderfully House-free day." She let degrading sarcasm lace her tones. "Other than those ridiculous puffed up administrators I've been meeting with all day… on top of that, I need to find Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth a holding room for their criminals." She rubbed the bridge of her nose, exhaustion setting in. "This is a hospital, not a police station." She muttered.

For a moment, the beeping of David's heart monitor was the only sound in the room. Then House sighed. "We're not in the differential room." He said, almost grudgingly, his voice so low Cuddy thought for a moment she had misheard.

She felt a slow smile spread over her face. "House… Did you just offer me your differential room?" House glanced down at the top of her head before looking down at his cane handle. He ran his thumb over the metal.

"I was just stating a fact." He grumbled. "Whether you use that fact to your advantage or not is entirely…" His words were suddenly cut off by Cuddy's hand on his arm. He stared down at it like he'd never seen a hand before.

"Thank you, House." Cuddy's voice was relieved, sincere. She squeezed his arm once, before turning and leaving the booth, her heels clacking on the floor again. House turned and watched her go, watched her dark hair swing before his eyes traveled a little further down her body…

"House?"

The beeping on the heart monitor increased, slowly at first, then faster.

"House!" House was suddenly yanked out of his reverie and stared back down into surgery. David's body was completely motionless on the table, his skin peeled back revealing what should be covered organs. Nurses were running every which way, placing silver instruments in Chase's bloody gloves. The overwhelming beep of the monitor told House that his patient had flatlined. House gripped his cane, watching his surgeon work. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck.

"Come on." He muttered, his eyes never leaving the table. "I'm not done with you yet."

There was an extended moment of disillusioned panic as Chase and his team worked to bring David back from the beyond. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the monitor sounded a very faint beep… beep… beep…

Chase looked up at him, relief clear in his eyes. House sighed. Well, damn. What the hell was wrong with his patient?

**********

Cuddy shut the door to House's differential room, holding House's white board. Brennan and Booth had arrived with a man who looked like he needed a hospital himself and proceeded right into the differential room, thanking her profusely. Cuddy slipped into House's office, leaning the white board against his desk. She placed the marker on the tray and turned to leave, accidentally bumping the desk as she did.

"Oops…" She bent low and picked up the picture frame from where it lay. She flipped it over, and felt her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. Her own face stared back at her, leaning over Wilson and House's shoulders, beaming. She dropped the picture back onto House's desk like it was on fire. She moved quickly towards the door, only pausing to glance back once. Then she hurried down the hall towards her own office, where the world made sense.

*****************

Click! The door shut behind Lisa Cuddy. Booth turned back to the table where Charlie Flugg was slumped, glaring at the table top like it had done something personal to him. Brennan slipped in behind him. "I called the local police, and they said they'd have a holding cell waiting for us when we were done."

Booth nodded and peered at Charlie. "Charlie Flugg." He began, leaning on the back of a chair. "You know why you're here, Chuck?"

Charlie glared at Booth. "Shaddup."

Booth felt his temper rise. "Charles." He began again. "I'm an FBI agent. You will answer my questions. Any idea why you're here?"

Charlie shook his head sullenly.

"Then why'd you run?"

Charlie pressed his lips together.

Booth growled. "Charlie. Why. Did. You. Run?"

Brennan made her way over to the interrogation, pulling out a chair and sitting down. Charlie's eyes slid over to her, traveling appreciatively up and down her form. "Hey." He said with a grin. "Who might you be?"

Brennan looked surprised. "Oh, my name is…"

Booth cut in. "This is Dr. Temperance Brennan, and I'm speaking to you right now, so stop checking out my partner and answer my question! Why did you run?"

Charlie ignored Booth. "So, I've got my own place down in the Bahamas… why don't you and I, we go get a drink later and discuss your visit?"

Brennan arched an eyebrow. "I have no plans to visit you, and I seriously doubt that you, with where you currently reside, have enough money to own a residence in the Bahamas."

Charlie frowned. "I wouldn't be livin' there if that damn Marylin hadn't run off with all my money."

Booth placed his hand protectively on Brennan's shoulder. "And where is Marylin now?" He asked, glaring at Charlie. He didn't like this guy. At all. Drunk, lazy, bastard, hitting on his Bones… Booth shook those thoughts from his head. She wasn't necessarily his Bones. However much he might wish otherwise.

Charlie leaned back, tilting his chair on two legs. "How the hell should I know where that bitch has gone? I'm just glad she is."

Brennan folded her hands in front of her, enjoying the warmth and weight of Booth's hand on her shoulder. "Are you aware she's dead?"

Charlie stared at her. "Marylin's… dead? Like… dead, dead?"

Booth slid a picture of Marylin's body across the table, leaning over Brennan to do so, his tie slipping down from his sport coat and falling onto her lap. Brennan looked down at it… red today. It matched his Where's Waldo socks, she noticed.

Charlie swore loudly. "Damn! She owes me money!"

Booth removed his hand from Brennan's shoulder reluctantly and sat down in the chair next to her. "Well, now we're getting somewhere. Why don't you start from the beginning?"

Charlie ran his hand through his hair. "I dated Marylin for six months… thought she was pretty great. I mean…" He let his chair drop back onto the floor with a thud and winked at Brennan. "All that hiking made her phenomenal in bed."

Booth grabbed Charlie's chin and forced his head away from his partner. "Keep going, buddy."

Charlie wrenched out of Booth's grasp. "Well, all is well and good, until suddenly she shows up on my doorstep and asks for three thousand dollars. I mean, look at me. I don't have that kinda dough. But I give it to her. Why? Cause I'm a nice guy. Not her, though. I never heard from her again."

Brennan's phone buzzed and she slid out from the table, slipping out of the room.

When she was gone, Booth leaned forward on the table. "So then, Chaz, I just got one more question for you." He looked into Charlie's eyes. "Why'd you kill her?"

Charlie jumped to his feet. "Hey, man, I didn't kill her!"

Booth leaned back in his chair, still outwardly calm. "Here's what I think happened. You and Marylin had a fight about the money; you lost your temper…"

"No!"

"…and killed her…"

"No!"

"… and then buried her in the woods!" Booth slammed his hand on the table, standing up to be face-to-face with Charlie.

"No!" Charlie shook his head, panic clear in his gaze. "I don't know who told you that, but I didn't kill Marylin. I couldn't kill anyone!"

Brennan re-entered the room, tucking her phone back into her pocket. "Mr. Flugg, where were you four days ago?"

Charlie's eyes flew to her. "Why does it matter?"

Brennan glanced at Booth. "That's the day Marylin was killed. Cam got the results on the flesh I sent her."

Booth raised an eyebrow. "How did… You sent Cam a box of human flesh? In the mail? What'd you use, FedEx?"

Brennan nodded seriously. "Yes." She turned back to Charlie. "So you're location?"

Charlie frowned. "I was bowling. With some guys from the trailer park. Go ahead, check if you don't believe me. Tons of people saw me."

Booth stood up. "You know what? I think we will. Thanks, Chaz. We'll be right back." He spun Brennan around and steered her out of the room. They walked into the hallway, locking the door to the room behind them. Booth met Brennan's eyes. "I think he's telling the truth."

Brennan arched an eyebrow. "Your gut, again?"

"You know what, Bones, you have your bones, and I have my gut. And it's telling me that Chuck in there is telling the truth about not killing Marylin."

"What about the money?"

Booth sighed. "I don't know what to make of that one. From what I've heard about Marylin, she doesn't seem the type to steal three thousand dollars from her boyfriend."

Brennan placed her hand on her partner's shoulder. "Don't worry, Booth. We'll figure this out." She smiled at him. "We always do."

Booth placed his hand over hers. Damn, but he wished that he'd never drawn that line in their relationship. What wouldn't he give to lean over and take her head in his hand…

"Hey, lovebirds! There's a minimum of eight inches between all men and women rule in this hospital!" House's cane slammed into the wall between the partners, jerking both out of their thoughtful reveries.

Brennan flushed, but whether it was with anger, or embarrassment, it was difficult to tell. "Please, Dr. House, mind your own business."

House tilted his cane over his shoulder and grinned at her. "Sure thing, Dr. Brennan. Just remember the rule. After all…" He tapped the glass window of his office. "I'll be watching." He spun on his heel and walked away, whistling cheerily.

Brennan glared after him. "That man, Booth. He's so rude!"

Booth nodded, not looking at his irate partner. "Come on, Bones, don't let him get under your skin." He placed his hand on Brennan's lower back, sending thrills up both their spines. "We've got a case to solve."

* * *

**Ick, I'm not sure how I feel about this ending... please please review! **

**xoxo**

**Allie  
**


	11. Rubber Bands, Rubber Balls

**Hello, all. I really don't have a good excuse for the length of time that this update took... All I can offer you is a sincere apology, and a nice long update... Thank you so much for sticking with me. I hope you like chapter eleven!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own either Bones or House.**

**Note: Since it's been... (checks last update) ...over a year since I've updated this story, let me remind you the time settings of these two shows. Bones is set after the Gormagon arc from back in Season Three, but is ignoring all the Zach stuff that went along with it. House is set after Cuddy loses Joy, way back then. Please enjoy.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Rubber Bands, Rubber Balls**

House shook his head at the obviously flustered anthropologist and her FBI bodyguard. He flopped down into his chair, resting his cane against the edge of his desk and running his hand over his bristling chin. A flatline on the table… There had to be something wrong with David's heart. And with the way the pudgy man was looking, he didn't have much time to figure out what it was.

House suddenly noticed his white board propped up against the wall. Cuddy. The side of his mouth curved up in a half-smile. She had remembered to remove it before giving FBI boy free reign in his differential room. He grabbed his cane and stumped over to the board, lifting it and placing it on his desk.

He glared down at the hastily scrawled words shining against the whiteness of the board and sighed grumpily. For some reason… he was getting the feeling that whatever was wrong with this man, whatever it was that was dragging David closer and closer to an untimely death, whatever it was that was dancing just out of reach… whatever it was was unbearably simple. And he couldn't figure it out. That irritated Gregory House. And when Gregory House was irritated… ducklings were shot down by the crossfire. He was about to rise and go off in search of his fellows and a bag of chips when a figure appeared in his doorway.

He stared. The little blonde girl stared back. She had to be maybe six or seven, with short cropped blonde hair and big blue eyes. She held a green iPod in one hand and was bouncing lightly along with the song that came from the slim white headphones. The headphones looked like they'd seen better days—bits of the white plastic had flecked off of the cord, showing the colored wires underneath. House briefly considered poking it with his cane before dismissing the idea. A crying little… thing was not something he wanted in his office. He attempted speech.

"Um, don't you have somewhere else to be?"

The girl simply looked at him, head bobbing to the song.

House leaned forward. "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

The girl ignored him completely and wandered towards his desk. She picked up his rubber band ball and bounced it experimentally on the floor. When it returned to her hand, she giggled and bounced it again. And again. House glared and snatched the ball from midair.

"What are you doing here?" He snapped. The girl's large eyes widened and began to shimmer with unshed tears. House sighed. "Fine." He growled, handing her the ball back. "But come on. I can show you a much _funner_ place to play."

The tears vanished and she smiled up at him, holding up her hand. House looked from the hand to her then back again. "You want me to… hold your hand?"

That smile again.

House shook his head. "No way. Come on, chickie." He stumbled towards the door. The little girl had grabbed and was clutching his hand anyway. The iPod was in her pocket and she was holding the rubber band ball like it was the best thing she'd ever seen. She turned her big blue eyes on him and House ground his teeth.

_Damn._

"Anything?"

Brennan didn't even look up from her bones as she answered. "Tell him, Zach."

Booth glanced at the video feed screen from his position in the doorway. Zach beamed at him, his face a little fuzzy. "Hello, Agent Booth! How's New Jersey?"

"Zach."

"Right. Sorry." Flustered, Zach glanced down at something in his hand. "It's the murder weapon. Judging from the lacerations on the bone, it's something long and thin."

"Like a cord?"

"Yes." Brennan straightened up with a sliver of white clutched in a pair of forceps. "And more than likely made out of this material."

Booth stepped forward and peered at the white sliver. "Great. Ok. So we just find a cord that looks like this."

Brennan frowned at the evidence. "Zach, can you call Hodgins and ask him to…"

Booth felt his mind slip as technical jargon filled the small room. Instead of attempting to follow a conversation he knew he was not going to be able to, he gazed at the small piece of white something that may link Marylin to her killer. If he could only find the missing piece… that missing piece could put someone in jail for murder. One more bad guy off the streets. Booth's eyes flicked to the glove-encased hand holding the forceps. Then his eyes slowly moved up the arm to the shoulder, across the shoulder to the face. _God, was she beautiful…_

"Booth?"

Booth shook his head slightly and blinked. Brennan was gazing steadily at him, brow pinched. "Were you listening to anything I just said?"

Booth grinned faintly and shook his head. She gave him an exasperated look. "Booth…" She began, but abruptly stopped distracted by something outside the door. Booth turned to see Dr. House stumping slowly down the hallway, a small girl clinging to his hand. She clutched a rubber band ball and had iPod headphones trailing from her ears.

House glanced in the room and met Brennan's eyes. "Look what I found." He announced, slipping into the room. "A magical place where you can bounce that ball all you want."

The girl's eyes landed on the bones on the table and they grew wide. She clung to House tighter and buried her face in his shirt.

"House!" Brennan snapped. "Get her out of here! This is no place for a little girl."

"Yeah? Well, neither is my office."

"At least your office doesn't have decomposing bones spread out on a table! She could contaminate evidence we need!"

"So you're not concerned with the mental scarring of a small, innocent girl, but rather your evidence?" House grinned at Booth. "Nice partner choice, FBI boy. I sure hope you had the children discussion with her before you two started—"

"Shut up, House!" snapped Booth.

Brennan looked confused. "Started what?"

A sudden hiccup from the little girl froze the discussion and four pairs of eyes found the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Booth felt his heart soften. "Hey." He knelt down next to her. "It's alright. What's your name?"

She just looked at him, sliding shyly behind House's good leg. House tried to release her hand, but she hung on tightly.

Booth looked up at the doctor, if he could be called that. "Why don't you take her to your boss?" He suggested. "Ask Dr. Cuddy what to do with her."

House let a grin slowly take over his face. "Agent Booth… that may just be the best suggestion I've ever heard you make."

He tugged on the girl's hand. "Come on, you. Let's go find Dr. Cuddy. I'm sure she'd love to have you."

Brennan watched him leave, thoughts spinning. "What an interesting man." She said simply, turning back to her bones and Zach on the monitor.

Booth stared at her in disbelief. "Interesting? Are you kidding me? He doesn't care about anyone but himself."

Brennan shook her head. "I think… there is more to Dr. House than meets the eye, Booth."

Booth glared at the open doorway. Brennan, however, had already moved on to other more important things than pondering the mystery of Greg House.

"Zach? Get Hodgins. I need him to…"

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

House ignored the shocked looks of the other doctors as he made his way towards his new destination—Cuddy's office. What a fantastic idea on Booth's part. House grinned to himself as he thought about the FBI agent's panic at House's insinuation towards a relationship. Oh, it was fairly obvious just how much Booth cared for his partner.

House turned a corner, feet following the familiar halls to Cuddy's office. Whether Brennan could see it or not… now that remained a different story.

House slipped into Cuddy's office without knocking, completely ignoring her secretary's stunned stare.

"Hey, Cuddy! Look what I found!"

Cuddy didn't even bother looking up from her papers. "House, whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait."

"Um, no, I don't think so."

Cuddy looked up… and the pen fell to the desk with a thump. "House? Please tell me you didn't kidnap her!"

She was around her desk and kneeling in front of him in five seconds flat. House let the situation sink in for a brief moment before forcibly yanking his mind back to the fact that he had a small unnamed little girl clinging to his good leg, and Cuddy's first thought had been _kidnap_.

"Kidnap? If I was going to kidnap one of these things, I'd at least get one that talked. And had a rich, yet attractive mother I could get a good ransom out of."

Cuddy ignored him. "Hi, sweetheart, what's your name?"

Silence.

Raising an eyebrow, Cuddy looked up at House. "What did you do to her?"

House raised his hands in defense. "I didn't do anything. She hasn't said a word since she decided my office was a fun place to play."

"Well, who is she?"

"How am I supposed to know? That's why we're here! Well, that and Temperance Brennan wouldn't play with her."

Cuddy was shocked. "You took her to the differential room? House, there's a dead body in there! No wonder she isn't speaking!"

House frowned. "Hey, I didn't make her stop talking! Maybe it's broken."

"Children don't break, House."

"They do too."

"Yeah, if you expose them to dead bodies!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"I would have thought that even you would have realized that a room with rotting bones would be a bad place to bring a small child."

"Whatever, Cuddy. I'm sorry I'm such a horrible person that you can't even stand to be in the same room with me!"

Cuddy froze. House was refusing to meet her eyes. He bit his tongue. Why had he said that? He'd been caught up in the flow of the argument and words had just come out—sarcastic, sure, but out they had come. Tsk. That was so out of character. He glanced into Cuddy's eyes and was surprised to see concern. What had he ever done to deserve her concern?

Well, this was getting uncomfortably close to an actual human moment. Time to slip back into their usual rhythm. But just as House was preparing a bitingly sarcastic comment, a disturbance behind him caused them both to turn. A slim teenage girl that House vaguely recognized as one of Lardbutt's visitors was fighting her way past Cuddy's secretary.

Cuddy slipped around House and opened the door. The girl fell into the room. "Trixie!" She cried. "Where have you been! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"And who might you be?" Cuddy asked.

"I'm Amanda—David Garth is my uncle."

The little girl—Trixie, apparently—backpedaled away from Amanda, clutching House's rubber band ball.

Amanda frowned at her. "Trixie is Marylin's daughter." She said quietly. "She hasn't spoken since…"

Cuddy looked blank, but House suddenly felt a rush of understanding. "Oh." He said simply. "That explains a lot."

Cuddy's eyes met his, a look of confusion prominent. "Marylin is the lovely lady currently stinking up my differential room." He gave her a pointed look.

"You offered." Cuddy muttered before turning her attention to Trixie. "Oh, sweetie." She murmured, sliding down on one knee. "Do you want to stay with me for a while?" Trixie studied her for a moment before nodding slowly.

House was surprised at the smile that lit up Cuddy's face. "Ok."

Amanda was bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Um, can I have my iPod back?" She asked. "It's about to die anyway."

Trixie pulled off the iPod and wordlessly handed it to Cuddy, who in turn handed it to Amanda. "Thanks." Amanda looked relieved. "I don't even know how Trixie got a hold of it."

House stood awkwardly as Amanda left hurriedly, shoving the iPod into her pocket.

Cuddy stood up from where Trixie was bouncing the ball on the floor happily and faced House. "Now what?" She asked him.

House slowly raised an eyebrow. "Why are you asking me? I dropped her off here. I'm done."  
"House, don't be ridiculous." Cuddy's voice rose slightly. "I'm busy! I can't just drop everything and—" The ball bounced away from Trixie and Cuddy scooped it up and returned it to the little girl without skipping a beat. "—take care of a little girl. You got me into this mess. You've got to help at least a little."

House stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "Cuddy, there's no way. Think about it. Little children hate m—"

House abruptly stopped talking as Trixie wandered over to him, the rubber band ball in hand, and slipped her little hand into his. She stared down at the end of his cane, fascinated with the flames that licked up its shaft.

Cuddy couldn't stop the small smile from flicking across her face. "Well, well, it appears that the impenetrable defenses of one Gregory House have finally been infiltrated. Imagine that.

House glared at her, decidedly un-amused.

"Cuddy." His voice dripped with disdain. "I can't exactly take care of her either. I have a fat man to save. Remember?"

"Fine." Cuddy turned around and rummaged in her desk for a moment, throwing a stack of papers into a drawer. Once she was satisfied that they were well stowed, she turned back to House and his little leech. "Trixie?" Her voice was kind. "Are you hungry?"

The little girl's eyes lit up and she nodded. Cuddy held out her hand and Trixie bounced over to her. "Let's go get some food." Cuddy met House's eyes. "Dr. House? I believe you have a patient to save?" She slowly raised an eyebrow.

House shook his head, trying to rid his traitorous brain of its involuntary thoughts. Thoughts of what would his life be like if Trixie belonged to him, and Cuddy was his… was nothing. _Nothing_.

"Yep. Patient. Right." House spun his cane once around his wrist and leaned down to peer into Trixie's eyes. "You be good for Dr. Cuddy, now." He said, mock-sternly. "I know what she's like when she gets angry."

Trixie clung shyly to Cuddy's arm and nodded. House nodded back and, without another word, slipped out of Cuddy's office. Maybe he didn't need that rubber band ball back just yet.

* * *

**On the upside, I know exactly where both cases are going, if that's any consolation for my long waiting period. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**xoxo**

**Allie  
**


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